One morning, the Teacher asks the student:

– Tell me who wrote “Os Lusíadas”?

The student, stuttering, responds:

– I don’t know, Mrs. Teacher, but it wasn’t me.

And he starts to cry. The teacher, furious, tells him:

– Well then, in the afternoon, I want to talk to your Father.

In conversation with his Father, the Teacher complains to him:

– I don’t understand your son. I asked him who wrote “Os Lusíadas” and he replied that he didn’t know, that it wasn’t him…

The Father says:

– Well, he’s not usually a liar, if he says he wasn’t, it’s because he wasn’t. I could not say the same about he’s brother…

Annoyed with such ignorance, the Teacher decides to go home and, on the way she passes by the local police post and the Post Commander tells her:

– Looks like the day didn’t go very well for you…

– It seems so. Imagine that I asked a student who wrote “Os Lusíadas” and he replied that he didn’t know, that it wasn’t him, and he started to cry.

The Post Commander:

– Do not worry. We call the kid and we give him a “squeeze”, you’ll see that he confesses everything!

With her hair standing on end, the Teacher comes home and finds her husband sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper. He asks her:

– So the day went well?

– Well, let me see. Today I asked a student who wrote “Os Lusíadas”. He started to stutter, that he didn’t know, that it hadn’t been him and began to cry. His Father tells me he’s not usually a liar. The Post Commander wants to call him and force him to confess. What shall I do with this?

The husband, comforting her:

– Look, forget it. Have dinner, sleep and tomorrow everything will be resolved. You’ll see that maybe it was you and you don’t remember anymore…!